Out of the Well
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Alfred and Henk saved Dolf from the cat; now it's time to save him from himself.


Out of the Well

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Alfred J. Kwak_

Copyright: Herman van Veen

The last people Dolf expected to see entering his hospital bed were Alfred Jodocus Kwak and his mole of a father. He struggled to sit upright, squawked out loud at the pain that still shot through his right wing every time he moved, and stared up at them from his pillow in complete confusion. Just when he'd been planning to discredit Alfred's name among all their classmates, here was Alfred being kind. _Again. _Would he ever figure that duck out?

"Hi, Dolf," he chirped.

"How are you doing?" added Henk, with a note of concern in his voice that forcibly reminded him of the last time they had seen each other – the time Henk had outwitted a huge, hungry cat to save both little birds' lives.

"Hurting," Dolf answered honestly. "But the doctors say I'll be out in a few days."

"Good." Henk smiled.

"Is there something you wanted to talk about, uh … sir?" It went against the grain to show respect to a mole, but _not_ to show respect to Henk after what he'd done would be impossible.

"Yes, actually. Something rather important." Henk clambered up the nightstand, assisted by Alfred, so that he could stand on the tabletop and look Dolf in the eye. His small furry face was grave, his eyes invisible behind his dark glasses. Alfred watched with visible apprehension, twisting his wingtips together as he waited for his guardian to speak.

"You see, Dolf," Henk said gently, "Alfred told me about your home situation. I'm so very sorry."

"He _what_?!" Dolf's screech of outrage made both his visitors recoil. "You filthy rotten liar, you _promised - _"

"_Not about that!_" Alfred's high-pitched voice rose easily over his own. "I only promised about … the other thing, and I kept that promise. I didn't tell anyone, and I won't. But I didn't make any promises about your father and the drinking, and I _had_ to tell. Didn't I, Pa?"

"That's right," said Henk, reaching up to pat his son's shoulder. "No child should ever have to go through what you have, Dolf. You need to get away from that environment, before it hurts you any more than it already has. You understand that, don't you?"

Dolf did understand, at a deep and painful level neither of these innocent, sheltered creatures could have reached. He had always known he wasn't like other birds, ever since he was hatched in the middle of his parents' last argument before their divorce. He had loved his father once, but the proud, handsome crow who had once taught him to fly was long gone, falling prey to dangerous mood swings and even more dangerous drinking binges to numb the pain of abandonment by his blackbird wife. Being at home was like walking on broken glass; sometimes literally. He would do anything to get away …

"But where would I go?" he rasped, blinking back the tears that seemed to come at all the worst possible moments.

"You can come and stay with us," said Henk.

Dolf was speechless – and so was Alfred, who was evidently not expecting that. Dolf glared at the duck's flabbergasted expression, taking a deep breath to reject the offer with all the contempt he could muster. If they thought he would happy to live on their charity –

"You see, young crow," Henk continued, either oblivious or indifferent to the tension in the room. "I look at you, lonely and angry and in so many kinds of pain, and I see what could have happened to my own son if I hadn't been there to take him in. It's what every parent feels. I'm doing this for myself as much as for you."

"That … that makes absolutely no sense," Dolf stammered, blushing under his feathers as he realized how rude that sounded. "I – sorry, sir, I mean - "

Henk shrugged. "That's all right."

"Look at it this way," Alfred chimed in, somewhat recovered from his shock. "I'm getting really tired of your attitude, Dolf. If Henk and I can help you become a nicer animal, we'll be doing everyone a favor."

"Oi!"

Alfred smiled and to Dolf's utter shock – reached over to land a brotherly punch on his uninjured wing. "Besides, we both survived that well, right? We medieval exiles need to stick together."

Dolf's last defenses, cracked and battered throughout the day before by terror, boredom, fury, physical pain and undeserved kindness, had reached the end of their endurance. He hid his face in his pillow, but the sobs that burst from him could not not be silenced.

A small wing and an even smaller front paw brushed across him, offering comfort. Sometimes that was all it took to bring someone back from the edge.


End file.
